


Basorexia

by Gryff_inTheGame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambition: Heart's Desire, Angst and Feels, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Gryffindor, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts, Love Confessions, Pride, Seduction, Slytherin, Trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryff_inTheGame/pseuds/Gryff_inTheGame
Summary: *Complete*(n.) The overwhelming desire to kiss.“How many times do I have to deny you?”“Until I stop wanting you.”“And if I never reciprocate?”....Wordporn triggered this delicious ball of ANGST! It's seductive and angsty with dark, romantic feels. How's that even possible you ask? Read it and find out ;)Jk Rowling owns everything. The plot is mine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some heavy angst + dark + romantic feels ;)
> 
> Enjoy! Let me know if you like it x
> 
> Beta love to Saintdionysus! 
> 
> Also shout out to Saintdionysus + Mr Benzedrine...I used our Gryff code word in here. *private joke* I couldn't resist! 
> 
> -GiTG

* * *

 

Draco and Blaise exit the great hall to avoid the commotion unfolding inside. In their haste, Draco unexpectedly collides with Ron. He seizes the moment, any excuse will do to cause a stir. With the second strike of his shoulder, Ron stumbles backward in surprise muttering something under his breath, as his face glows hot with fury. He’s rubbing the top of his arm, irritated by Draco’s presence and frustrated by his ability to get under his skin. Harry offers Ron a reassuring look to try and cool things down. The last thing they need is another detention but Ron doesn't appear calm at all.

Meanwhile, Hermione is glaring at Draco for the intrusion, completely inconvenienced by his mere existence. Nothing about her demeanour is friendly, she's had enough of him.

* * *

 

Draco sniggers as Ron mutters under his breath, but Draco persists to antagonise him.

“What’s that Gryffindork? Kitty gotchya tongue?”

Harry scoffs in retaliation, eager to diffuse the tension. “Shove off Malfoy!”

“Excuse me, Gryffinwho? I don't believe I was talking to you,” retorts Draco.

“Oh bite me! Malfoy,” chimes Hermione, as she grabs Harry and Ron’s hands in an attempt to pull them away from the trouble that's brewing.

Draco smirks as if he's just been handed a gift.

 _She wants to play today, well princess, I can only deliberate. Take the bait._ He quirks a brow, delivering his response with a controlled edge.

“Snake bites are lethal, Granger. Are you sure you really want that?”

A chill courses through her body but she shakes it off. She’s had one too many drops of courage today, and a flagrant disregard of her moral compass as of late. He is on her last nerve so she stoops to his level, barking a slur far from witty, void of grace, and totally uncalled for. This shit is personal, and while she's feeling a rebellious streak to break rules, she may aswell kick him in the guts while her immorality allows her to.

“Slytherslut,” she states poetically, as though she is spitting such words with fire.

Draco is positively glowing by her feistiness and he continues to feed the flames.

“Gryffinwhore.”

He doesn't mean it but he loves winding her up.

Hermione refrains her gasp but in her head she’s stomping her feet and cursing him into oblivion. Before she has a chance to respond, Blaise chimes in. His words are enough to shut her up immediately.

“Will you two just shut up and fuck already?”

Hermione downcasts her eyes, it's an awkward aversion of the fact that she finds Draco cynical, but incredibly sexy, and her inability to control such an attraction bothers her greatly.

Blaise glances back and forth between Draco and Hermione.

“I'm not the only one who's noticed the sexual tension,” he states matter-of-factly. He nods in the direction of Harry and Ron and they nod back subtly while being careful to avoid her.

Hermione’s eyes shift from her feet to the direction of Blaise. She catches Harry and Ron agreeing with him, and glares daggers at them all at the implication.

Blaise turns to take the closest exit, grabbing Harry and Ron, pushing them in the same direction as he goes.

Hermione and Draco are left alone to talk. The five seconds of silence after their friends left is uncomfortable, so Hermione questions Draco, annoyed by his arrogance.

 

* * *

 

“Was that really necessary?” she demands.

“I do what I need to do to get a private audience with you. You know that,” he bobs his head to signal that he's directing his speech at her before he carries on. “I'm not going to apologise for my instinct to be a prick to you.”

“You're a hypocrite,” she scoffs.

Hermione knows she shouldn't have expected an apology. She doubts the slimy snake is even capable of spelling the word, but she can't ignore her moral compass when she knows right from wrong. His “instinct” is a poor excuse to avoid one.

Draco is point blank.

“Cunning. The term is cunning, Granger.”

Hermione attempts to argue but she finds herself being pushed into an empty classroom.

“Malfoy, don't,” she struggles.

Draco forces against her twists and turns. This is the only chance he's going to have alone with her before the holidays, and he wants to make sure he is on her mind for the duration of them.

“Why fight it?” he asks, genuinely interested in her answer.

Hermione is guarded; feeling argumentative as one of her last lines of defence. The other being her wand, which her hand is calmly stroking on the inside pocket of her robes.

“Why fight for something you can't have?” she questions without hesitation.

“Can't and no and not words registered in my vocabulary. When I want something I persist,” he cooes.

Her anger rises and so does the heat of their conversation. She remains perplexed as she rebukes.

“How many times do I have to deny you?”

“Until I stop wanting you.”

“And if I never reciprocate?”

“That's not an option. ‘Any means to achieve their ends’ remember? I'm not against exploring other methods, Granger. However I much prefer my witches to be willing.”

“You wouldn't dare?”

“Wouldn't I? Try me.”

“I'd rather not try anything with you. I think you're vile. Besides, you couldn't handle me, even if I came with a detailed manual."

“Oh I'd write a book, Granger. And I wouldn't spare any details.”

“You!”

“I have a name.”

“I loathe you!”

“You say that but I don't believe it for a minute. I have an excellent sense of character and my ability to ‘read’ people is second to none. Your body language tells me otherwise.”

Hermione shifts her thighs subtly; clearing the uncomfortable ball of angst growing in her throat. The tension is thick but her confidence doesn't waver.

“Tell me, Malfoy, what does ‘my body language’ tell you?” she snaps sarcastically.

“Well for one, you're blushing.”

He starts moving casually, circling her with his steps. He reaches the back of her shoulders leaning into her neck, hovering his face just short of her left ear. His voice is but a dull whisper.

“It’s not the same blushing tint you get after Potter’s told you some lame joke, and you have to force a giggle to make him happy. It's a flustered rush of rose to your cheeks, signalling the uncontrollable increase of your heart rate.”

Hermione gulps, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. _Any_ attempt to get ahold of herself.

She's presumptuous in her response, but delivers it with just enough sass to let roll off her tongue successfully.

“Oh really. Is that it? You can tell by the colour of my cheeks? Groundbreaking. Did you ever think I'm frustrated by you persistence?”

Draco is quick to shut her down. He is in control of this, not her, but he's enjoying her defiance all the same.

“Frustrated, yes. By my tenacity? No. You're practically dripping with sexual tension. Again, you body tells me. You're rigid, uncomfortably so, because you're trying to hold it together. But your confidence doesn't match your behaviour.”

He places his hands on top of her shoulders and the action causes her to jump. Swiveling her around to face him their eyes meet, but it's  a second before her lashes flutter to hide her eyeroll. Draco turns up the heat knowing that everything he is doing, every word oozing from his lips is unavoidable seduction.

“I saw the way your thighs clenched when you shuffled your feet. You're concentrating on controlling your emotions so much that you might forget to breathe.”

Draco moves forward, hovering his nose an inch from hers.

Hermione bites her lip nervously in response to his bold move. She feels the temptation building, threatening to suck her in, and for once, she fears her ability resist him. This is the closest contact they've had in months. She didn't know she still craved him till now.

Draco chuckles at her apprehension, edging forward so that they're touching nose-to-nose.

“Breathe, Granger. Or don't. I'm sure Mudbloods don't taste all that different. I'd be more than happy to resuscitate you. Mouth-to-mouth.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione wants to flinch but she can't. Instead she is frozen solid in a stoic mold, with her nose touching his and their foreheads now resting on each other. The light breeze of his breath brushes her face, and her arms ripple in awareness of his proximity. Her tongue swipes her lips, while their eyes remain locked on one another. The silence is deafening.

Eventually she replies, but her response is rash.

“I'm an acquired taste, Malfoy. As I understand you have a cultivated taste for fine things. Don't like me? Acquire some taste.”

Draco is fascinated by her subliminal invitation. He is almost tempted to penetrate her mind but he knows it's pointless. She wants him. He can read clearly between the lines, and this sexy little minx doesn't have to say a single thing. Her body has told him everything he needs to know, she's just too proud to do anything about it. Her pride doesn't worry him, no. He has her right where he wants her. Don't get him wrong, Draco is proud too. But as much as he loves his pride, he knows tasting her pride will be most victorious.

Draco breaks the silence, opting to turn the heat up just a notch more. He licks his lips, visualising kissing her. His mouth waters at the thought and he fights to control the urge to give in. _Just hold out a little longer. She's almost begging for it._

He allows his hands to fall either side of her hips, gripping her tight. He feels slightly relieved at the feel of her in his grasp. It soothes him just holding her.

He articulates himself well, as he prods her to the edge of her boundaries just a little more.

“Once I have acquired the taste for something, Granger, I want to taste every inch of it, even if it's in the worst way.”

Hermione inhales a long breath, but it signifies the difficulty she's experiencing at this point in time.

He relishes her struggle.

“You know the key to controlling your emotions is very simple. Don't be emotional. Avoid reacting to triggers. Distract your thoughts from whatever is testing you.”

He glides his hands from her hips to her arse with a swift, hard yank, and her body is pulled closer to him. Her hands shake as they climb his chest, stopping to rest above his heart for support.

His eye bore into hers.

“Every second of every minute, every hour of every day, I exercise the utmost control. It's a valuable Slytherin trait.That's the problem with you Gryffindors. You're too emotional. You wouldn't survive a day in the snake pit.”

His feet lead him backwards and he uses his hold on her hips to guide her back with him. His ass meets a desk and he sits on it, pulling her on top of his lap.

“You're so willing to sacrifice your lives but answer me this. Would you take a risk to sacrifice your heart? Even if there's a fifty-fifty chance of being profoundly hurt in the process?”

 

* * *

 

Draco’s hand glides up the inside of her bicep, making it's way to her face. It stops there to tuck a loose curl behind her ear; fingers brushing her face in the process.

Hermione doesn't dare flinch. A part of her doesn't out of fear. The other half of her doesn't dare move because she doesn’t want to. There's a certain beauty in his perseverance and she'd be foolish to say she didn't like how he’s making her feel. The danger is exhilarating.

Relaxing into him, Hermione isn't giving in, but she's keen to see where this new found comfort might take them. If he's bluffing, she'll catch it. And very soon by the looks of it.

She inches toward him now, eager to make him sweat. Even if it's just a little, it'll please her knowing she can unhinge him. So she takes his advice to exercise control, distracting her mind using the time Ron spewed slugs. She chuckles at the memory but it works.

Hermione’s laugh throws Draco off. He isn't expecting it and it causes his concentration to falter. Curiously he tilts his head, staring at her with a questionable gaze.

Hermione’s confidence peaks. She's ready to play his game.

“You say that like it's a given, but if you don't take the risk how will you ever know the success of the outcome?”

“Think about it? Feelings presented on a platter of trust. Putting faith and loyalty into another person. Allowing them to capture your heart,” spits Draco with a hint uncertainty.

“Exactly. It's part of the experience of life. Taking a risk on love, putting your heart into a jar and giving it someone with the possibility of never getting it back.”

“But what if you lose? Whats happens then? You just mope around, trying to pick up the pieces or just brush it under the carpet and never love again?”

“Oh but what if you win?”

“How very optimistic of you, Granger.”

“I have to be. If I gave up on every negative experience I've had, would I be here?”

“Pardon?”

“I'm already wounded by all the things you've said to me. There's nothing else you can say that will add to that.”

“You've misunderstood me.”

“Have I? What's the meaning of this ambush then? For months, years you've hassled me. Now I go along with it, play your game for a few minutes and trip you up and you backtrack, coward. You started it, Malfoy. I'm merely giving you a _taste_ of your own medicine. But in all honesty, I'm still being truthful.”

Draco is caught off guard by her. She succeeded.

Feeling unsure about what to do next he decides to flip the situation and do a one-eighty. He wants the control back and like hell if he'll let her beat him at his own game of seduction. His objective is still the same. Mess with her head enough that he'll be on her mind all summer. He didn't think about the possibility of it affecting him though, and he being impatient as he is, shudders at the thought of being stuck at the Manor all summer with thoughts of her invading his mind.

Still sitting on the desk with Hermione planted firmly on his lap, he lays down pulling her with him.

“Surely you know, when a Slytherin bites he's just marking his territory Granger. It's predatorial.You’re supposed to be smart. I always thought you were blinded by hate. Seems you're blinded by something else.”

Hermione goes with it; her curiosity getting the best of her. Her heart pounds erratically in her chest, and she finds it ironic, how the beat of it reflects the struggle of their powerplay. Resting her chin on his chest while his head is cupped in his hands behind him, she looks to him with her piercing hazel eyes, planning to push his boundaries some more.

“If you just let yourself out of your comfort zone, ease up the control, take a risk and flirt with unknown territory, you might be surprised by what you discover.”

Draco slides his elbows behind his shoulders to angle himself forward.

“I don't need to give up control to discover new things. You've failed to notice that I took a risk on you.”

Amused, Hermione quips, “you didn't risk anything coming here. You already knew.”

He nods in agreement. “That is true. Honestly, I've tasted you in the fantasies of my mind, but I'm a firm believer in physically necessities. I wanted to plant myself firmly in your mind for the summer in hopes of creating something when we come back. No commitments, no sacrifices…”

“Interesting proposal. Pity your lips spit nothing but venom. It's a poison I simply refuse to taste. While I enjoy the tension and the excitement of the unknown, toxicity is really not my cup of tea. Not a single drop.”

Draco wraps his legs around her, flipping their bodies synonymously so she is now underneath him. She’s smiling at him playfully and it hits him hard. He edges in to kiss her and she plays hard to get, turning her head away from him. Obviously she needs a little more persuading so he can only oblige. He pulls out the big ones, letting his tongue do the talking as he speaks to her on her level, sucking her in with his words.

He leans in to nuzzle at her neck and he cops a whiff of her hair.

“The smell of your hair carries past me in the corridors. Surprisingly, your fragrance is pleasant, fresh; like the wildflowers that grow in untamed forests. As sweet as the exotics that bloom in the lushest of bushes and shrubs.”

He dives in to kiss her neck and he tugs at her tender skin in the process. She gasps at his expense as he bites and sucks her tenderly. She turns away giving him full access to her neck.

“Your alabaster skin is so soft and velvety, it beckons to be touched by me.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione is breathless as one of his hands ventures down the curves of her body, it stops at edge of her school skirt. He peels it above her waist swiftly, letting his hand gently flutter back down to massage her inner thigh. She bucks her hips in response, wanting him to reposition his hand toward her center, wanting him touch the aching throb between her legs.

 

* * *

 

Continuing to massage her, he stops kissing her neck. He allows his breath to torment her, as he hovers an inch away from the ridge of her shoulder and her neck. She shivers and her skin covers in goose bumps. Evidence of his teasing. He enjoys it even more.

“I inhale the air I need for survival, drinking your aroma, relishing your scent. You've corrupted the air I breathe and I can't resist you. I am tempted by your mere existence. Everything surrounding me reminds me of you. You can't resist me, I drive you insane too.”

His hand gives in to her want; drifting fingers that threaten to invade the existing skin between her underwear and the delicacy of her personal space. The soothing hum of his voice is welcoming and it penetrates her deep. She craves to feel his emotion, desperate to see some side of humility. Its unnerving being exposed to him like this. She is the antidote to his venom. She feels every essence of his words. They roll off his tongue and pierce beyond the external lick of the fleshy muscular organ. It's so intense she's drunk on his words, she's soaked them in.

“You've become primal to my survival,” he cooes.

* * *

 

Hermione is flourishing, glowing in the romanticism of his words. She imagines what it would feel like to taste him. Frightening, and euphoric and exciting. She assess the pros and cons of the risk. Is she willing to put her heart on the line for him? She is already exposing herself, opened by vulnerabilities. She feeds his reflecting desire and decides to take a leap of faith.

Her delicate fingers brush his chin as she angles his face to her. Basorexia becomes her, she can no longer fight it. She dives into him crashing her lips onto his, not even giving him a chance to come halfway. They are a tangled mess of limbs, it's the effect of a collision without the crash course. They're eating each others faces as though they're starved. Their hunger is dissatisfied by no less than ten courses. It's a whirlwind rush. It's addictive but most definitely more than just lust.

 

* * *

 

Draco is invested. He understands momentarily why Gryffindors are enticed by danger and relentless in taking risks. He feels the unfamiliar rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins to his ecstatic heart, and it's exhilarating. Before now he was preparing to collect jars of hearts, but now he's wanting, willing to offer her his.

Who knew the dangers of love could be so alluring? Convincing enough for him to put his heart in her hands? He didn't think he had the capacity to sacrifice anything but here he is. Prepared to serve up one of his major organs and give it to her. All aboard the Granger express, ready to leap into the unknown territory of love, destination? Anywhere with her.

The hollow muscular organ in his chest contracts rhythmically, clashing with the beat of hers. This major organ, this essential function of life; in essence one you can't survive without, is no longer what he fears losing. It's the foreboding feeling of having hers, and never wanting to give it back. He holds her tighter, a poor attempt on his part, to slow down the tugging, aching, desperate beat of his heart.

Hermione breathes him in, feeling comfort in his arms.

“Don't let go,” she pleads.

Her words provide what he needs from her, physical ease; despite the tormented feeling in his chest, and it gives him the opportunity to relieve his thoughts at this very moment. He moves in to kiss her some more. 

 

Somehow lost in the magic of moment. He could have sworn he meant to say the words, _“promise me you won't let go?”_ but they never left his busy lips.

 

* * *

 

And so marks the beginning of the game of love.

  



End file.
